Wanna know how I got these scars?
by SeverusHermioneForever
Summary: Wanna know how I got these scars?My father was...a drinker, and a find.One night he goes of crazier than usual. Mommy gets the kitchen knife to defend herself. He doesn't like that. Not one bit." The tale on how the Joker gets his scars. Enjoy


**Wanna know how I got these scars? My father was... a drinker. And a fiend. And one night he goes off crazier than usual. Mommy gets the kitchen knife to defend herself. He doesn't like that. Not-one-bit. So - me watching - he takes the knife to her, laughing while he does it! Turns to me, and he says, "why so serious, son?" Comes at me with the knife... "Why so serious?" He sticks the blade in my mouth... "Let's put a smile on that face!" And... Why so serious?-The Joker**

Jack sat at the kitchen table brooding over his food as he watched his mother wash up at the kitchen sink. His father was at the pub, again, drinking away his money and life. He was out later than usual. His mother was worried about him, though Jack could tell she was trying to hide the worry of his father. He never liked his father. Not-one-bit. To Jack, his father was a nasty man. He could say many horrible things about him and not one of them was nice like other children his age usually say about their father's.

The clock stroke midnight and Jack heard the front door open loudly. His mother stopped what she was doing but didn't turn around. They could hear him singing loud drunken songs and they heard him threw his shoes down the hall. His father slammed the front door and they could hear him shuffling of his coat and leaving it on the floor, his father was still singing drunkenly some of the songs he sang had horrible swearwords in them and Jack wished he had his ears covered up so he wouldn't have to hear them. His father made his way to the kitchen doorway and Jack saw that he still had a half-bottle of beer left. His father face was bright red, and he looked sweaty.

He stopped singing and looked at him as though he never seen him before. He dropped the bottle of beer and Jack heard it roll around on the kitchen floor, the liquid pouring out of it.

"Oh Jack, Jack. Jackie boy. What to call you eh?" His father asked him. Jacked didn't dare look at him. He hated being called Jackie. That was a girl's name, and he was no girl.

Jack could hear his father walking over to him. He heard his father bumping into things blindly and he heard his father throw things across the kitchen.

"Look at me!" His father shouted at him. Jack didn't look up. He didn't want to. Jack heard his father swore. He then felt a pair of sweaty hands grab his collar and Jack was lifted up. His food scattered over the kitchen floor and his father shoved him against the wall. His feet were of the ground and he still didn't look at his father.

"Look at me Jack! _**LOOK-AT-ME!" **_His father spat in his face and lifted his chin up roughly. He banged his head against the wall and he felt dizziness taking over him. His father forced him to open his eyes painfully with something sharp and cold. Jack realized that it was his Father's pocketknife, opening up the top of one of his eyelids. Jack didn't dare tremble. Oh no he didn't. He wouldn't be a coward in front of his father. No. Jack was no coward.

He heard his father laugh and spat all over his face. His father dropped the pocketknife away from his eyes and he let go of him. Jack felt himself drop to the ground. He felt blood going down, coming out of the corner of his eyes. Couple drops of his own blood went into his mouth. His blood tasted sweet and tender. It was almost nice.

"Right then Jackie. Have it _your _way. You don't wanna look at me? Eh? Fine. I'll hurt the one you love the most." His father laughed and Jack stiffened. Not his mother. Please not his mother.

Jack dared himself to look up. He saw his father walk drunkenly to his mother and saw that he grabbed her by the neck.

His mother looked terrified. His father pulled her hair back and pointed his pocketknife at her neck.

Jack looked up horrified. He bet his father didn't even know what he was doing because he was that drunk.

"Let her go." Jack pleaded with his father. His father laughed again and his grip on the knife deepened into his mother neck.

His mother trembled. She wasn't the bravest of the mothers really.

His father shook his head and pressed the knife deeper into his mother neck. Blood at the back of her neck squeezed out but only a little bit. Sneering at Jack. Then, quite suddenly, his mother broke his father's grip and kicked him in the groin and got out a giant kitchen knife to defend herself. Its giant silver blade was glistening in the light and his mother backed against the wall pointing the knife at his father. His father was bending over laughing.

"Wanna fight eh? I-like-that." He said getting himself up and smartening himself.

His father looked at his mother furiously. His face was an angry shade of red with sweat trailing down from the corners of his hair.

He screamed and threw down his pocketknife. He roughly pulled out the kitchen drawer and got out the smallest but most dangerous knife there was. His father looked at the knife with a gleam in his eyes. He looked at Jack and his mother gleefully as though he had gone mad in the head.

He laughed. Laughed harder than ever. He turns to his mother making diagonals with the knife in the air as though trying to cut someone in half with the knife.

"You have gone mad." His mother whispered hoarsely.

"Mad? You're calling me mad? You're the one that's mad. I'm not. I AM NOT MAD!" His father shouted.

His mother looked away from him trembling.

His father gave a spine-chilling laugh. He walked over to Jack. Stopping in front of him, sneering at him as though he was better than Jack.

"Why so serious son?" He asked.

Jack looked up, horror was in his eyes as his father grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled Jack closer.

"Why so serious?" He asked again. Putting the knife in the corner of Jack's mouth.

"Why so Serious?" He asked seriously.

Jack's eyes were wide and he was terrified. For once in his life, he never knew that being terrified felt so good.

"Why SO SERIOUS?!" His father shouted. His father deepened the knife on the corner of his mouth and blood came out. His father moved over to the next corner of his mouth and did the same.

His mouth hurt. His mouth hurted like hell.

His father paused and looked at him curiously.

"Why so serious?" He said then the next thing Jack knew, all he could see was blackness and his mother screaming his name.

Xxx

Jack woke up. His mouth felt sore and painful and he felt like he was smiling painfully. It felt like as though someone grabbed the two corners of his mouth and pulled them into a dangerous smile. He sat up slowly and realized he was in his own bedroom. He wondered how long he had been asleep for and how long he had been here. It was nighttime and he knew something that nobody else knew yet.

His name will not be Jack anymore.

His name shall be _**The Joker.**_

He shall be known. Oh yes he shall. His name isn't Jack anymore. He shall leave home and move to Gotham, go undercover with all the mobs and bad guys that live there. He shall rob banks, cause people misery, oh and do a _hell lot of smiling._

He doesn't need plans anymore. He's not a guy with a plan; he's something new now.

He then got out of bed and stood up. He shall dress up like a clown. Act like a clown. The Joker is always the odd one out in playing cards, so should he. He should act like the odd one. Nobody will be like him, even if they want to be, they will never be like him.

But, first thing first, he shall kill his father. Get as much money as he can and move to Gotham and cause as much Chaos as he wants.

He smiled like a mad man.

He's gone insane already.


End file.
